Snapshots
by oddsends
Summary: Little stories about little moments between Bulma & Vegeta. Silliness abounds.
1. Chapter 1

'Goodnight Sweet Prince'

This short was inspired by AlwaysHatedEssay's awesome doodles which I found on her tumblr that I stalk relentlessly, SORRY I AM SO ANNOYING BB. XD

Unbeta'd, because I like to live dangerously.

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ or any of the nouns associated with it, I just wanted to mess with the characters a bit…

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><p>"Vegeta, could you get Trunks settled in bed? I'm gonna hop through the shower real quick."<p>

Vegeta, the Prince of All Saiyans and grudging father, gave his blue-haired harpy of a sex slave (_not _'girlfriend,' dammit) a glare that had literally melted faces during the course of his genocidal past. "Absolutely not."

"Oh, sorry, by 'could you'"- Bulma shifted their yawning baby boy to her hip and supported him with one arm as she swiped at her chest with the towel in her other hand, "-I meant 'right now, asshole!' Because in case you hadn't noticed, he just spit up all over me!"

Vegeta wanted to smirk, really he did, but the stench of bile and baby formula wafting from the usually welcoming, perfumed valley of Bulma's cleavage was overpowering. He flared his nostrils and snorted instead, trying in vain to push out the disgusting smell, eyeing Trunks critically.

Locking gazes with the pastel-colored ball of leaking, whining puppy fat that he had sired, Vegeta could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Trunks stared back undaunted, and for one frantic moment Vegeta was certain the child was staring into his very soul.

Giving his head a quick shake, Vegeta flexed his hands as he turned his attention back to Bulma, the leather of his gloves creaking as his fingers shifted within. "Woman, I understand that you are mentally impaired, so I will repeat myself just this once for your sake: NO!"

Bulma's eyes narrowed, glinting with an impish light, and Vegeta knew his opponent was about to change tactics.

Still, he was unprepared for her sudden invasion of his personal space, despite this being the most common of the many violations the insufferable wench committed against his royal person daily.

Dropping the dirty towel, Bulma placed her slender, moon-pale hand on his shoulder and dragged it across his collarbone to his chest, pretending to thumb his nipple through his armor. Gazing down at him from under her thick black lashes, Bulma hummed lightly. "Y'know…seeing you playing 'Daddy' really gets me all-_hot_, Vegeta. Who knows what I'd do if I knew you were actually tucking Trunks in…maybe even giving him a little kiss 'goodnight' on the cheek…"

Her hand dropped abruptly to his spandex-covered crotch and squeezed, and again Vegeta wondered too late why he only wore armor on his chest.

Trunks gave a sleepy giggle as he watched his father's face turn as red as Elmo.

Sputtering, Vegeta batted Bulma's offending hand away and stepped back with a snarl, freed from the evil woman's sexual spell by his son's taunting gurgles. "How repulsive, pawing at me with your soiled flesh! Scour yourself with steel wool under scalding water, and perhaps there is a _very _distant chance I will lower myself to allowing you to service me."

Laughing, Bulma shot back "That's rich, coming from Mister B. O.-and-blood!" She swung Trunks around and peppered his tiny face with noisy kisses, making the baby squeal and kick with delight. "Aw, night-night, my little munchkin-head! You have a nice sleepy-sleep, okay?" Trunks cooed in reply.

Vegeta nearly added his own vomit to Bulma's messy shirt. "Cease this disgraceful display at once! You are turning the brat into an idiot like yourself. Now," he growled, thrusting out one hand palm-up, "hand him over."

Bulma gave a sigh as her saintly patience was tested once more. "Vegeta, I'm not giving you a twenty, I'm giving you a _baby_-our baby! You know perfectly well that's not how you're supposed to hold him! His head needs supp-"

Vegeta phased out of sight, and when he reappeared he was holding Trunks back-to chest like a hostage. "The boy is of elite Saiyan stock, tainted as it may be by human blood. I could drop him from the roof and he would be unscathed."

Bulma gasped, horrified at the very idea. Her glowing blue eyes narrowed to slits. "You wouldn't dare."

A nasty smile crawled across Vegeta's face as he backed into the shadows of the unlit hallway. "Do enjoy your shower, woman…and if you are not sanitized and waiting for me when I return, I will hunt you down and make you regret it." Trunks hardly had time to whimper before they had vanished into the darkness.

Bulma couldn't help but shiver. "So hot."

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><p>Vegeta strode into the nursery, ignoring the light switch on the wall beside the door: he could see perfectly well in the dark.<p>

So could Trunks, but that didn't mean the baby enjoyed the cloying black of night. When he saw his father's reflective alien pupils gleaming menacingly in the dark, he began to sniffle.

"Stop that this instant," Vegeta demanded in his roughest tone, but he was careful as he lowered his son into the crib, as though he were handing live explosives. The baby rolled over and sat up, but Vegeta's death-stare had him lying back down quickly. "You will remain silent and still until someone sees fit to retrieve you. Understood?"

Trunks' lower lip quivered almost imperceptibly; almost, unless the person perceiving was Vegeta. His glare sharpened.

Trunks rolled over and stared at the wall, wide-eyed with fear as his scary daddy stood over his bed and attempted to scowl his son to sleep. Still, even though his night-light was out and his mobile was silent, Trunks managed to nod off.

After all, no monster would dare attack him when he had such a father as this one.

Vegeta observed the brat going limp with unconsciousness and felt satisfaction bubble up within.

The smug sort, mind you. Another battle won.

He turned on his heel and stalked out of the nursery and down the hall, eager to collect his spoils of war.

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><p>Author's Note: So yeah, hey anybody who is maybe here for updates on my other things! Eheh…all I can say is I'm working on that situation. I STILL don't have my own laptop, and right now I don't want to save any lengthy pieces on a shared computer (I'm already nervous as hell that someone will find this one…)<p>

Anyway, this is totally dedicated to AlwaysHatedEssays, who is awesome and you should all go read her fic 'Three Years of Uneaten Strawberries,' because of reasons (mainly that it's awesome!)

Please don't take this fic too seriously. I don't. But DO please let me know what you thought, if you'd like! This is my first DBZ fic, amazingly, since I've loved it since I was a kid and basically shipped B/V before I even knew what shipping was.

Oh, as for the shiny night-vision eyes: that's one of my head canons. I like to think that saiyans have eyes like a cat's that glow in the dark, and maybe there's been a few occasions where Vegeta gave Bulma a heart attack thinking there was a giant raccoon skulking around the trashcans in the kitchen until she turned the lights on...nope, just the Prince of All Saiyans. XD

I'm leaving the possibility for more little short stories, probably unconnected in terms of an overarching plot/timeline, open in case I want to write more B/V in the future. Which is possible. What do you guys think? In any case…

Thanks for reading, ya'll!


	2. Chapter 2

'Collectible'

Disclaimer: I own zero things related to DBZ, except my shipper heart…

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><p>"Nn, Vegeta…wait. Not here. Let's go upstairs."<p>

Vegeta burrowed his face into the crook of Bulma's neck, put his lips to the fragile spot where her throat met the slope of her shoulder, and sucked hard.

"Vegeta…oh! Come on, take me-"

He eagerly propelled their little clinch toward the nearest wall, Bulma-first. She landed with a none-too-gentle and somewhat unsexy _thud _as her head hit the drywall.

"…I was gonna say 'upstairs,' duh! Ouch!" Bulma unwound her arms from his shoulders; one hand reached around to rub the back of her tender skull, and the other grabbed a fistful of Vegeta's thick black hair and yanked.

Cursing, Vegeta leaned into her grip, staggered as he tried to right himself without unlocking Bulma's legs from around his waist, and knocked his shoulder into a nearby curio cabinet.

The case swayed, heaved, and toppled with a resounding crash.

With a shriek, Bulma pushed and squirmed to be free, and reluctantly Vegeta pried his hands from her ass and let her go. Dashing over to the carnage, Bulma dropped to her knees and wailed in anguish.

"Noo, my Snowbabies collection!"

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><p>Author's Note: These snippet things are fun. There was going to be another part about how Bulma makes Vegeta feel all guilty about breaking her precious Snowbabies (which are a thing, look it up if you don't already know), but I opted to end it here.<p>

Also I have no idea why I made Bulma collect Snowbabies. I strongly suspect it's because I find the name hilarious for some reason and wanted Vegeta and Snowbabies to appear in the same paragraph. Yep.

Later!


	3. Chapter 3

'Panties'

AN: This is crackfic, just saiyan...

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ, but if I did, (debauched thoughts here)!

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><p>"Y'know, it's kinda gross that you don't wear underwear."<p>

Vegeta finished tying the drawstring on his training shorts and bent over to root around for his shoes, which had probably wound up under the bed, although anything was possible. Extracting one of his sneakers from the crown moulding had been memorable…

"I mean honestly, don't you get itchy or something?" Bulma tugged her own panties over her shapely hips and snapped the elastic waistband for emphasis. "You should try 'em! Well, not a pair like mine, obviously. Boxers or whatever."

Vegeta sighed, knowing that unless he responded to her she would just continue rambling in her never-ending quest to drive him to madness. "They are useless and serve no practical purpose. Much like yourself."

"Oh shut it, you know you love me. And yes they totally do, they protect your skin from abrasive fabrics, like...I dunno, denim. Plus it's just more sanitary," she said as she gave him a once-over that plainly stated _not that you'd know about that, ew_.

"I'm not some pathetic human whose very flesh is too weak to withstand the garments they cover it with," Vegeta sneered, but her look annoyed him anyway. He wasn't _that_ dirty! He even bathed daily now. But perhaps…

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><p>Bulma squinted at Vegeta as she tried to figure out what was different about him today. Still short, still crabby, still flame-haired…what the hell had changed?<p>

Vegeta scowled around his mouthful of breakfast. "What is it now, woman?"

"I'm not sure," she replied, sipping at her coffee with a thoughtful expression.

Rolling his eyes, Vegeta stood and carried his pile of dirty dishes to the sink. "Typical." He turned and headed for the door, and Bulma's eyes dropped to his ass without hesitation or shame.

She choked when she saw two clearly defined lines through the tight spandex of his bodysuit.

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><p>Author's Note: Get it? Get it?<p>

I'm sorry, I'm just having fun and making these up as I go/whenever inspiration hits. Today the keyword 'panty lines' floated into my brain, so…

I'm actually really glad Vegeta's not real, because I think he would kill me slowly for this (and whatever else I come up with, yikes). Also I love/need/crave prompts, so if you have any funny keywords for me, I would love and appreciate and very possibly use them.

Also how many times have I used the word 'ass' in this collection? Not enough I'm sure.

I'm thinking I'll be changing the summary to reflect the fact that most of these drabble things are probably going to be ridiculous, although maybe someday I'll wanna get serious and make you guys cry...but I mean my next drabble in progress is about that toilet monster prank, so maybe not.

Thanks!


	4. Chapter 4

'War'

AN: Crack-a-lackin.'

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ…yet…muhahaha…

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><p>"It will be a cold day in hell before you defeat me, <em>princess.<em> Take that!"

Bulma glanced up from her notes to watch Vegeta as he sat across the kitchen table, typing away on his tablet computer with furious jabs of his gloved thumbs, muttering to himself about '_presiding over a court of failure_.' To her left, Trunks sat in his hovering anti-gravity high chair, cheerfully pulverizing his already-mashed banana baby food into a soup-like state. "Who are you talking to? And _please_ take it easy on that thing, it's the fifth one this week."

Vegeta's eyes never left the soft glow of the tablet's screen. "Silence, fool, you are disrupting my focus!" His brow furrowed and a trickle of sweat trailed down the slope of his endearingly large forehead.

"Alright, this I gotta see," Bulma quipped, hopping up and trotting to the prince's side to peer over his shoulder. From what she could make out, it looked like a list of some sort, with a timer counting down near the top.

Suddenly a new entry appeared. Vegeta swore a blue streak in some guttural alien tongue, making Bulma jump and squint harder to read the tiny text. "You've been _outbid_…? What—"

Snarling, Vegeta tapped in more commands, and a text box appeared. He entered an obscene amount of zenni and hit 'Confirm,' just as the red digits dwindled down to zero.

Everything went still for a few moments as the webpage reloaded, and then: _Sorry, you didn't win 'SUPER RARE: GLD CART LEGEND OF ZORDON MIB.' Shop similar items…_

"Fuck!" Vegeta cocked his arm, preparing to hurl the little device at the wall, but Bulma snatched it from his grasp before he could release it.

Trunks laughed and yelled "Quack, quack!" He loved ducks too! Not as much as daddy, though…

"Vegeta, what the hell? What are you doing getting into bidding wars with…" she scrolled down and read with difficulty "…xOxSUgArPrinCesSxOx? And watch your language around…the baby…" She trailed off, giving Trunks a concerned look as he splashed around in his messy breakfast, quacking.

Vegeta sneered and gave her his back, arms crossed over his chest. "Hn. None of your business."

Bulma put the tablet down carefully and sighed. "Is this where all the bizarre junk that's been turning up lately has been coming from? That mini-fridge shaped like a pineapple? The Russian nesting dolls?" She gulped and whispered, horror creeping into her voice, "…that _thing_ we used last night when we…?"

Vegeta just smirked.

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><p>AN: Oh gross, poor Bulma. I hope he washed it first!<p>

I think it's perfectly possible that Vegeta would become addicted to eBay. The endless opportunities to crush opponents on the digital battlefield, the rush of victory and the agony of defeat…plus he's got a sugar-momma, so he can afford to buy whatever, even if he has no real interest in the thing. I think he'd purposefully go for the auctions that said they were rare or had a lot of bidders, just so he could swoop in and destroy the other bidder's dreams…hahaha!

These have been getting crazier…I hope someday I can write about Bulma and Vegeta in a way that is relatively normal, you know, for them. But writing crack is just really, really fun.

See ya!


	5. Chapter 5

'War: the Aftermath'

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ. I totally typo'd that as 'CBS' the first time. Sheesh.

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><p>"Honey! Are you in there?"<p>

Doctor Briefs picked his way across the room, taking care to avoid the piles of oddments and knick-knacks scattered about. It was slow going. "Goodness, where did all of this come from?"

Bunny's curly-blonde head peeked around the corner of a Rococo-style wardrobe that was painted a subtle shade of lime green. "Over here, darling! I must've lost track of time!"

The doctor smiled indulgently. "Been shopping online again, dear?"

Bunny giggled and cupped her cheek in her freshly-manicured hand. "Oh, I can't help myself. Winning's such a thrill! And I win quite a lot, you know!"

"I can see that," her husband chuckled, accepting a peck on the cheek from his wife as he reached for her hand and grasped it gently. Bunny took the lead, nimbly forging a path through the labyrinth of clutter.

The abandoned desktop computer was left running. On the screen, an auction for an obscure videogame had apparently just ended, with Bunny emerging victorious over the second-highest bidder, user _betterthanuX9001_.

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><p>AN: So I was drafting the next drabble in this collection when it occurred to me that I knew who the bidder Vegeta lost to in the previous short was—Bunny! So she got her own little story.<p>

I find Bulma's parents very interesting and adorable. I did a little (very little) research about them before I wrote this, and it seems that Bunny isn't technically Bulma's mother's name…but that's what everyone calls her, that's what I've known her as for years, and I think it suits her. It also seems that 'Brief' is the doctor's first name, and not the family surname…but again, I've grown up knowing and loving these characters as the Briefs family, so that's what I'll be sticking with.

Thanks!


	6. Chapter 6

'Sense of Humor'

Disclaimer: I own DBZ…! That was the joke. (No but really I do not, please spare me).

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><p>"Hey, Vegeta. Wanna hear this joke I just remembered? I bet I can get you to laugh!"<p>

Vegeta kept his eyes on the prize—a massive slab of dinosaur meat on the plate set before him. "Want to hear the sound intestines make when they spill out onto the floor?"

Bulma huffed and crossed her arms. "You are _such_ an ass! But I'll tell you anyway. So: what did Cinderella say when she got to the ball?"

Vegeta took a bite of the rare steak, savoring the bloody, freshly-slaughtered taste. "Woman, _you_ are going to be a cinder if you don't shut up."

"Oh please," Bulma laughed, tossing her head and setting her permed hair into bouncy motion, "you're just trying to hide the fact that you have no idea who Cinderella is."

"I could not possibly care less, dolt!"

"Well…" Bulma tapped her chin with her index finger, considering her options. "The joke won't be as funny if you don't have some basic knowledge of the character…alright, in short: Cinderella is a princess—well, not at first, she starts off as a servant to her evil stepfamily—but anyway, she goes to a ball in a pumpkin and dances around in glass shoes. Oh, and she talks to rats."

Vegeta stopped eating and stared at her. Just stared.

Finally, he shook his head. "Your dementia is worsening."

"Whatever, it's not my story!" Bulma exclaimed hotly. "And besides, that's not the point. What do you think Cinderella said when she got to the ball?"

Vegeta turned his attention to more important matters. Namely, his dinner.

Bulma pressed gamely on to the punch line. "Okay, she said—" She proceeded to make a throaty gagging sound.

_That_ got Vegeta's attention. "Are you choking?" he asked with a hopeful note in his tone.

"No! That's what Cinderella said! Get it? She gets to the ball, and then…" Bulma gargled and waggled her eyebrows at the prince suggestively.

Vegeta looked bewildered for a split second, and then his heavy black brows pulled down into a disgusted grimace. "A vulgar story from a vulgar woman. I might have guessed."

Bulma cackled at his prudish response. "Gee, so sorry to have offended you, your Highness! I guess Saiyans have no concept of humor."

Vegeta scrubbed a napkin across his mouth, crumpled it in his fist, and tossed it onto his empty plate. "The only joke here is your ability as an entertainer. That was downright shameful."

"Oh? Care to show how me how it's done, then?" Bulma challenged, eyes alight with interest.

"Very well. I will tell you a tale of true power and might."

Bulma pulled up a chair and sat down across the table from her houseguest, propping her chin in her hands with an eager grin. "Is it funny?"

Vegeta smirked. "Oh, very."

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><p>"-and then he sucked the marrow from his father's broken femur, while the man was still alive and screaming. And the commander asks, 'who was it that authorized this mission?' And the soldier waved the wet end of his severed arm and replied 'the Ginyu Force!' before he fell down dead in a pool of his own bile."<p>

Bulma was positively green. Vegeta took one look at her nauseated face, threw back his head, and laughed.

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><p>AN: Yay, two updates in one day! Because the last one was super-short and not at all about Bulma and Vegeta and all the moe-moe moments between them.<p>

Personally I like the idea that Bulma is terrible at telling jokes. And that Vegeta is maybe too good at it…by the by, he's telling his very special and lovely version of 'The Aristocrats' joke. I'm sorry.

Also I don't take credit for Bulma's Cinderella joke. I heard that from a guy I knew in highschool. Go figure.

Later!


	7. Chapter 7

'Dreamy'

AN: Let's just pretend this is drunk!fic. Okay? Cool.

Disclaimer: Hello? I don't own DBZ!

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><p>"Daddy, Daddy! I wanna play <em>this<em> game!"

Vegeta glanced at the oversized box Bra was struggling to hold and shot his daughter a look that clearly said _no_. Then, he actually said it: "No."

Bra's lower lip gave a tremor dangerously close to being a wibble, and Vegeta broke out in a cold sweat. The child was a master manipulator, and it was only a matter of time before she broke his will. "B-but Daddy, I like this one! _Please_?"

"Did you not hear me the first time? I said-"

Bra's eyes sparkled with unshed tears, a deadly finishing move that almost never failed. Rarely did she need to resort to an all-out tantrum.

"…fine. Begin setup of this…_Dream Phone_," Vegeta sneered.

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><p>"-so here, Daddy, hold the phone while I mix up the cards…not that tight, you'll break it!"<p>

Vegeta relaxed his grip on the enormous hot pink phone, smirking at the fresh cracks in the plastic.

Bra handed him three small cards and a list. Bored already, Vegeta flipped the cards over…and stilled. "Who the hell are these people?"

Bra gave him a gap-toothed grin. "The boys who might have a crush on you!"

Vegeta's cards slipped from his suddenly numb fingers. "_What?_"

"I already told you," Bra huffed, every bit as impatient as her mother. "You call different boys on the dream phone and get clues so you can figure out which one likes y-"

"Who are these disgusting pedophiles?" Vegeta raged, snatching up the deck and scattering them across the floor, ignoring Bra's protests. "Bruce? Alan? Jamal?"

"I hope I get Steve," Bra giggled, pressing her hands to her cheeks. "Or maybe Carlos!"

Vegeta was flabbergasted. "Th-this is obscene! Give me that damn phone, I'm going to make a few calls, alright-!"

"Daddy no, it's just pretend!" Bra squealed, throwing her body over the game, shielding the flimsy cardboard from the steadily growing ball of ki in Vegeta's palm.

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><p>"<em>He looks cool in whatever he wears…he's not wearing a hat!<em>"

"Hn." Scowling, Vegeta crossed off 'hat' on his clue sheet.

Bra smiled and held out her hand. "My turn!" The prince turned over the obnoxious phone with as much dignity as the circumstances would allow.

Suddenly, it began to ring. Vegeta started and glared fiery death at the evil thing, and Bra clapped. "Ooh, another clue!"

The nasal voice of an anonymous teenaged female filled the air. "_I just heard...it's not Paul!_"

"Thank fuck," Vegeta muttered darkly. Father and daughter both scratched the name from their lists.

Bra took her turn and handed the phone back to Vegeta. He dialed and raised it to his ear, careful not to let the hated device touch his face.

"Hey Dad, I was…uh…"Trunks paused in the doorway, eyes wide.

Vegeta bared his teeth and snarled. "Keep walking, boy."

Trunks cautiously backed out of the room and took off at a run.

Vegeta sighed and hit 'redial.'

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><p>"Okay, I'm gonna guess who it is!" Bra announced, bouncing on her knees in jittery anticipation.<p>

"_Nice try, but it's not me!_" jeered a disembodied male voice.

With a thump, Bra sat back down. "Darn. Alright Daddy, your turn! Guess!"

Nearing the brink of insanity, Vegeta punched in a random set of digits-anything to end this torture sooner.

"…_you're right! I really like you!_"

Bra jumped up, yelling "You won! You won! Phil has a crush on you!"

Vegeta stood, turned on his heel, and left.

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><p>Bulma spun around in her seat, turning from her computer to face the entrance to her private office at the sound of the door opening.<p>

Vegeta stalked in and shut the door behind him, and Bulma rose from her chair to greet him. "Hiya, hunk. What's-"

Vegeta pounced, and neither did much talking after that.

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><p>AN: Dream Phone is a real game and I strongly encourage you to look it up if you don't already know about it. Especially the commercial, it's golden. Oh, and 'Dreamphone: Unstable Exes Edition.'<p>

Also I want to thank everyone who has reviewed/faved/subscribed. You guys make my day with your commentary/presence, really!


	8. Chapter 8

'The Breck Boy'

AN: I'm back. Sorry.

…not for being gone, for coming back. XD

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ. Every time I have to type that I screw it up at least once. What is wrong with me you guys.

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><p>"<em>Mo-om!<em> Mom? Aw man…"

Vegeta began a mental countdown, a protruding vein in his forehead throbbing in time: _5, 4, 3, 2_—

"Dad! Do you know where Mom is?"

Drawing a deep breath through his nose, Vegeta cracked one eye open to glare at his son's feet, maintaining his perfectly balanced one-fingered handstand. "Do you recall what happened the last time you pestered me with idiotic questions?"

Trunks blanched but held his ground. "Well, it's just…this is an emergency and I can't find Mom anywhere!"

"Have I taught you nothing, boy? Check the shopping district! Or that noisy, foul-smelling whorehouse the woman frequents."

"You mean the salon?"

Vegeta smirked. "No."

Trunks coughed into his fist, unsure if his father was joking or not. "W-well anyway, I guess I'll just go scan the downtown area-"

"And who're you looking for?" Bulma interrupted, breezing though the front door and into the living room with a spring in her step despite the colorful array of overstuffed shopping bags in her arms. Dumping her purchases carelessly on the couch, Bulma angled her face toward her son, who obediently leaned down so she could plant a quick kiss on his cheek. Vegeta snorted in disgust.

"Don't get all jealous, you can have one too…whenever you decide to walk on your feet like a normal person, weirdo," Bulma jibed. "Also did I or did I not tell you to quit training in the house?"

With minimal effort, Vegeta launched himself up and over Bulma's head, purposely stomping upon landing behind her and enjoying her startled squawk. "Once again you are assuming that I have to obey your commands."

"That's not what you said last night," Bulma shot back, smug. Vegeta sputtered, appalled at the woman's cavalier attitude about discussing their sex life in front of their spawn.

Trunks cleared his throat. "Uh, so, Mom! I really need to ask—do you have my-?" He gestured vaguely toward his head.

Bulma blinked, frowning. "Your...? Oh! Yes, I borrowed it again this morning, sorry. It's in my purse." She playfully elbowed Vegeta out of the way, and he stepped aside easily enough—he knew from painful experience that things could get ugly in a hurry when one tried to stand between Bulma and her spoils of materialistic war.

Digging through the pile, Bulma located her oversized handbag and rooted around its cavernous depths. "A-ha! Here it is," she crowed, handing the object in question to Trunks. The young man sighed and shot his mother a relieved smile as the anxiety that had been radiating off him dissipated.

Vegeta watched the exchange askance, curious in spite of himself.

Trunks took what appeared to be a stick lined with uniform rows of thorns from his mother and immediately applied it to his hair, drawing it through the silky lavender strands with obvious pleasure.

"…_this_ was the nature of your 'emergency?'" Vegeta snarled. "A grooming device?"

Mother and son both turned to gape at the prince, aghast. "Vegeta…don't you know what a hairbrush is?"

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><p>AN: Thank you for the 'hairbrush' prompt, AlwaysHatedEssays! This one fought me tooth &amp; nail but I'm publishing it anyway. I am the master of my ridiculous fanfiction destiny, damn it! It's not like this collection is worried about silly useless things like 'integrity' or 'logical sense' anyhow.<p>

The title is a reference to the 'Breck Girl' ads from yesteryear. Look em up! I love making you guys do research. Trunks would be perfect as a spokesman for beauty products, you know it!

Not saiyan Trunks is effeminate, per se, but I mean...that hair. So gorgeous. He must take good care of it. He also knows exactly what a salon is (and has probably been to one at least once, just to see what it's like, you know. Headcanon).

And in all fairness Vegeta is probably aware of hair care tools, but he probably wouldn't bother to know them by name either. I also don't think he'd use them. Ever.


	9. Chapter 9

'Together Forever, Never to Part'

AN: Well yeah it's a Rick Astley reference, does it still count as a Rickroll? Is that still a 'thing' these days? Inquiring minds want to know.

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ, I never have, I never will, stop rubbing it in! –gross sobbing-

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><p>"Aw, how <em>cuuute!<em>"

Vegeta rolled his eyes and did a quick scan of the vicinity for the usual suspects: a puppy, a drooling newborn brat, a particularly gaudy pair of shoes…he saw none of these.

Pausing beside the blue-haired woman holding his arm, Vegeta followed her gaze to a bench, upon which sat two shriveled skin-bags. His nose wrinkled reflexively.

"What is 'cute' about a pair of wheezing reminders of mortality? They look to have both feet and an elbow already in the grave."

Bulma gasped and slapped at his bicep. "My god, Vegeta! That's…well, a little funny. But seriously, you're horrible." She leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed dreamily, digging her nails into his skin warningly when Vegeta moved to pull away from her embarrassingly affectionate public display. "Don't you think it's sweet? Growing old together…that's the kind of love I want." She looked at Vegeta expectantly, batting her lashes.

Vegeta scoffed. "Saiyans remain youthful for the majority of their natural lives. Any that lived over-long dwindled into a pathetic, deteriorated state, often resulting in mercy kill—"

"Ugh, stop! Jeez," Bulma grumped, eyes narrowed. "Just shut up and say you'll stay with me forever. Even when I'm a granny. A _sexy_ granny," she amended.

"Woman, you are going to make me vomit with your repulsive sentimentality. Perhaps the sight will shock those elder weaklings into cardiac arrest," he sniggered, a nasty smile on his face.

"_Vegeta!_"

He sighed and started walking once more. "Oh, stop shrieking. Had I intended to leave this ridiculous planet, I would have done so long ago."

Bulma blinked, and her stormy expression cleared to reveal a radiant grin that set her pretty face aglow. "Oh man. You love me _so hard_. Knew it."

"Don't flatter yourself!"

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much…"

"What!"

The bickering pair headed off, still arm in arm. On the bench, the elderly couple watched them go.

The little old woman patted her husband's gnarled hand, eyes crinkled at the edges with amusement. "Ah, aren't they cute?"

Her husband simply cupped his ear and said "What?"

* * *

><p>AN: Well, you know, it's in the Female Handbook that you fuss over old couples at least once. AT LEAST ONE TIME IN YOUR LIFE, YOU CYNICS.<p>

I bet guys do it too. In my mind it goes something like "dude bro look at those old married peeps, so cute," and his buddy's like "omg dude I know," and then they spontaneously brofist.

Later!


	10. Chapter 10

'Tender Loving Blackmail'

Disclaimer: Disclaimers make me itchy. So do lawsuits…I don't own, so please don't sue!

* * *

><p>"Everything alright over there?"<p>

Vegeta spared a moment to shoot Bulma a dirty look over his broad shoulder before turning away, leaning to one side as he reached around his back. His thick, blunt fingers scrabbled over his spine, as though trying to drag themselves to his shoulder blade. Grunting, he changed his approach, sticking out his elbow at an odd angle and straining.

Bulma sat up and the sheet fell away, exposing her nude form to the cool night air. "Got an itchy spot?"

The prince snorted. "I see why they call you a genius."

"Tch, jerk," Bulma grumbled, scooting over to sit behind Vegeta and watching as he rubbed and pressed fruitlessly. She covered his fingers with hers, stilling them.

He glanced at her again, a question in his eyes—until he noticed her bare breasts, at which point he promptly forgot what he'd been about to say.

Bulma's knowing smirk reminded him fast enough. "I didn't give you permission to—"

"Vegeta, I _literally_ had 'your highness' in my mouth last night," Bulma deadpanned. His jaw dropped.

She let her nails scrape over the reddened patch he'd made, noting idly that her manicure was chipping already after a long week in the workshop. "Here?"

Vegeta harrumphed and turned his head, keeping Bulma's chest in his peripheral vision in that way that all men think subtle and all women find hilariously, frustratingly, endearingly obvious. "Hn. Higher."

Leaning on her opposite arm, Bulma let her hand move one way as her gaze went another, studying her lover's back. His flesh was decorated with faded scars and blotchy, discolored marks that signified an old burn. She had a few of those herself from the soldering iron (and a few more from the curling iron).

As she took this rare opportunity to examine his tail-stump up close, one spot in particular caught her attention. "Hey, what's this?"

Vegeta shifted, attempting to spur her hand back into motion. "What is _what_?"

"You've got a big ol' mole! Right here on your left cheek," Bulma giggled, poking the small but still noticeable brown bump on the toned curve of his ass. Vegeta growled and swatted her hand away, but didn't move to get up or leave.

"A scab, nothing more."

"Oh-ho no, that's a cute little beauty spot you got, buddy," Bulma teased mercilessly. "Ha! Just wait 'til I tell Goku!"

"…you wouldn't _dare_."

"Well, maybe the next time I ask you to take the trash out you'll actually do it instead of ignoring me, huh?"

His glare was deadly. "Why should I have to perform such menial chores? You have those automated scrap-heaps for such things!"

"Aw, but Vegeta," Bulma cooed, "it's so _sweet_ when you do it!"

"Enough, woman. Continue your task. Unless you're going to half-ass the job like you do everything else?"

"_What?_ All of my inventions are the pinnacle of perfection, just like their creator!"

They squabbled long into the night and beyond, throughout the rest of their lives—which were spent together.

* * *

><p>AN: What? Even Super Saiyans get itchy spots they can't reach themselves.<p>

Although actually the inspiration for this came from a single line that I woke up with in my head one morning, which was "I'm gonna blackmail the shit out of you." It didn't make it in here, but still.

Oh, this isn't the last chapter, by the way. That last line sounded kinda final, but...I'll keep adding tidbits as I feel like it. Just keep in mind these aren't in any kind of chronological order, haha!

I found writing and thinking about this one very relaxing for some reason. Sigh. I even listened to Gerry Rafferty's "Right Down the Line" while drafting it. Just...mellow. Maybe the next one will be some raunchy smut to make up for all this talk of growing old and spending lifetimes together. Y'know, change things up a bit XD

Later!


	11. Chapter 11

'V-Day'

AN: Quickie fluff because I swore to myself that I would write a themed one-shot for a holiday I find annoying and do not celebrate. My reasons are my own.

Disclaimer: To: Lawyers—Roses are Red, Violets are Blue, I don't Own, so please don't Sue! From: 258, xoxo.

* * *

><p>"Happy Valentine's day, Daddy!"<p>

Vegeta took the pink card from his daughter with the cringing trepidation of a man handling a hissing, poisonous snake. The paper had a gritty texture, and with mounting dread he held it up for a closer look…yep, glitter. It was a guarantee he'd be scraping the demonic, sparkling flakes off his person for weeks to come.

Vegeta imagined the purple and gold mess staining his hands was the blood of one of those hideous uni-horn beasts the child worshipped, and felt a little better.

Depicted on the card was a bug-eyed cartoon female in a mockery of royal vestments, staring at him with a vacant expression on her painted face. Above her unrealistic hair he read '_You Are the Fairest of Them All, Valentine!_' Beneath that in childish scrawl was written '_To: Bra_,' which had been scratched out and replaced with '_Daddie_,' and was followed by '_From: BRA!_" The double exclamation points had been given a mouth to form a smiling face.

It was retina-scalding and emasculating and Vegeta knew he was going to keep it forever.

Hidden somewhere Bulma would never find it, of course.

* * *

><p>AN: Did your face melt off in screaming agony from the kawaii overload? Then my work here is done. If not, I'll just have to amp up the sugar-sweetness next time...heh...<p>

There may or may not be a part two where Bulma gives Vegeta her 'Valentine' (get it get it), depending on whether or not I wuss out and don't write it. C'est la vie.


	12. Chapter 12

'V-Day, the Grownup Way'

AN: Part 2. There's language and sexy-type things, so under 18, shoo! Haha, how hypocritical, I was totally reading porn when I was twelve.

But seriously, get lost, young & impressionables. XD

(Although honestly it's not that graphic. Sorry. I'm shy.)

Disclaimer: Not mine not mine not mine!

* * *

><p>"Mm, happy Valentine's day, Vegeta…"<p>

_Here it comes_, the prince thought, anticipating what manner of striptease the woman would perform for him this year—the slow, taunting sort? Or perhaps a decidedly dirty game of "hidden and seeking," or whatever the hell it was called.

He preferred "the Shredder," truth be told. The mental image of the last time he tore up Bulma's expensive undergarments made him damn near grin. But oh, time to pay attention, she was getting closer—

"…so here's the keys. Go start the car."

_Wait. What_?

Bulma laughed right in his face at the expression he made, the loud and booming sort that meant she was amused at his expense. "Aw, what, were you expecting something else? Errands now, fun stuff later!"

* * *

><p>"Okay, first things first: groceries."<p>

"Oh, joy," Vegeta sneered. He was currently stuffed inside the motorized death-trap Bulma insisted on using, despite flight being far more efficient.

And with her driving, the chances of them being maimed or causing serious property damage increased dramatically.

Bulma took a hand off the wheel, and a year off Vegeta's life, to pat his arm affectionately. "Don't pout! I'll let you pick out whatever you want. Which is probably everything."

He glowered and shook her off, but that only seemed to amuse her more.

The supermarket was swarming with humans, and at this ungodly hour it was mainly the elderly variety. The sound of squeaky shopping cart wheels and orthotic shoes threatened to incite an immediate and long-lasting migraine. The garish pink-and-hearts décor made good on that threat.

Bulma grabbed three carts ("what, you think _one_ is enough? For our household? Ha!"), and Vegeta was coerced into steering two of them. The woman led the way, dropping this and that into the metal carriages with barely a glance and apparently no concern as to their welfare.

As they wandered through the frozen food section, Vegeta was shocked to feel a light tap on his shoulder. He whirled around, curious to see who dared assault him, and was met with the smiling face of a brown-haired female who looked to be around Bulma's age. Her uniform marked her as an employee of the store. _That will have to be burned, or it will be too easy to identify the remains_, he noted.

"Hi!" The woman chirped, oblivious to Vegeta's desire to tear off the hand she had defiled him with. "Care to try a mini brat and some cheese cubes? They're tasty and free!"

"Brat?" he blurted, stunned to think that humans practiced cannibalism. Sure, his own brats could be irritating, and he'd eaten a few sentient beings in his day, but this woman's suggestion that he taste-test one of her own kind was appalling.

"Yup," she nodded, "bratwurst. They're very…yummy." Her voice lowered along with her gaze as she blatantly gave him a once-over.

He took a step back. "How—how dare—!"

"Sorry," the woman husked, "I just wanted to share…I've been stealing nibbles all day. Whenever I see something I like, I just wanna…put it in my mouth."

"Oh yeah? Wanna start with my fist?" Bulma had come to intervene, and the carton in her hand looked less like a gallon of ice cream and more like a bludgeon every second.

The conflict was solved without any bloodshed, much to his disappointment.

* * *

><p>"Well, that was interesting," Bulma growled as they pulled up to the drive-thru window at the pharmacy. "Been a while since I've fired someone who doesn't even work for me. Felt good."<p>

"I still say you should have insisted on a public execution," Vegeta replied.

"I told you a hundred times, we don't have those here anymo—oh, yes, hello," Bulma greeted the suddenly nervous-looking man who was leaning out the window to assist her. "Picking up. The last name is 'Briefs.'"

The man seemed very glad to duck back inside, but returned moments later to hand Bulma several white paper bags. And a few more. Then several more after that.

Vegeta's lap became the dumping ground for the packages, and he pushed them to the floor with much crinkling. "Just how many addictive substances does the old man require to live?"

"These are for Mom, you jerk! And they're multivitamins. Probably."

* * *

><p>"Last stop, and then we're headed for home, I <em>swear<em>," Bulma cajoled, trying to keep Vegeta from literally jumping out the window and taking off. "I'll make it worth your while, and you _know_ I'm good for it."

Vegeta folded his arms and thought hard. "Fine. But I want to be in and out quickly."

Bulma turned to look at him, brows arched high.

"I meant this building, not—pah," he snarled, red.

"Well, I hope so, Vegeta, but…can't promise much with this place."

They drove past a sign which read '_Department of Motor Vehicles and Hovering Craft_.'

* * *

><p>"I <em>have<em> to renew my license or I can't drive!"

"You can't drive _with_ one!"

Bulma took several deep breaths, inhaling through her nose and exhaling from her mouth. "Because I understand that you sometimes express yourself with words you don't necessarily mean, I will—"

"Is that a line from that idiotic self-help tape you've been listening to?" Vegeta snickered. Really, how foolish. One did not 'manage' anger. One harnessed its power and used to destroy one's enemies and—

"You. Sit," Bulma thundered, jabbing her finger at a plastic chair in the waiting area. "I will come get you when I'm done. Got it?"

Vegeta glared, but the promise of _later_ had him sitting down just the same to wait.

And wait.

And wait.

And-

Vegeta was moments from a relapse into his more 'casually homicidal' persona, when a low muttering to his left drew his eye to a man sitting a few chairs down the row from himself. The stranger was hunched over, hands clasped in front of his face, lips quivering as he mumbled nonsense to no one.

Vegeta leaned away, but couldn't help barking "what the hell are you jabbering about?"

The man didn't even look up. "I'm praying."

"For _what_?"

"Death."

A commotion from the desk at the front prevented Vegeta from granting his wish. "What do you mean, not enough points of identification? I'm Bulma fucking Briefs! The most beautiful, intelligent, and _recognizable_ woman on the entire goddamn planet!"

The prince breathed a sigh of relief. Time to go.

Vegeta left the stranger to his fate.

* * *

><p>"God, that sucked. I'm so tired," Bulma groused, kicking off her shoes and removing her jewelry as she prepared for bed.<p>

Vegeta cleared his throat pointedly.

Bulma rubbed a hand over her eyes. "Oh, yeah. Why don't I wait for you in bed while you take a shower? Yes you _do_ need one," she said, forestalling his protests.

"Hn. Don't get too comfortable, woman."

* * *

><p><em>Of course. Of-fucking-course. She fell asleep, that weak-willed human wench! <em>

And he wasn't even all that angry at her for it, which just made him angrier.

Vegeta climbed into bed, getting a smidgen of sadistic pleasure as the mattress moved and jostled Bulma, interrupting her snores. He rolled over, closed his eyes, and…

…snapped them back open as he felt Bulma's hand sliding across his bare stomach.

"Silly man, did you really think I'd fall asleep on you? I've been looking forward to this all damn day," Bulma giggled, crawling over to straddle Vegeta's hip when he stubbornly refused to roll over. "C'mon, don't get all cranky now. Gimme a little…" She pressed a slow kiss to his neck, and he was nearly undone. Evil woman, always going straight for the throat…

"You have toyed with me for the last time," he rumbled, helping himself to a handful of her ass—two handfuls, after a moment. "Now you will be _my_ plaything."

"Ooh, yes please," Bulma moaned, wiggling over him and stretching like a contented cat, not at all cowed by his threat. He'd have felt insulted if she wasn't wriggling right above his rapidly hardening cock…maybe later…

"Happy Valentine's, Veh...mn. Vegeta."

"Don't remind me."

"But-"

He hauled her into a kiss, stopping her chatter with his tongue. Knocking the breath from her lungs with his first strong push inside. Muffling his own sounds against her breasts as she mounted and counterattacked.

The whole room felt stifling, and yet wherever she _wasn't_ he felt cold; the only solution was to be with her, against the headboard, on the floor, back in the bed with their heads where their feet were meant to go.

As they drifted off to sleep, Bulma draped herself over Vegeta's broad chest, swiped a sweaty strand of hair out of her eyes, and whispered in his ear, "I know about that card Bra gave you. I helped her pick them out."

He grit his teeth and held her closer. If he didn't love her so much, he'd kill her.

* * *

><p>AN: This is probably full of typos and it's defintely full of too many dashes and ellipses, but it's 4am here and I'm only doing this because I love you guys. So Happy Valentine's Day and goodnight, dammit! XD<p>

PS, thank you very much, **ijustwokeup**, for the 'DMV' prompt! What a great idea!


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